


Sprites of Stevie

by mastiffgirl



Category: Fleetwood Mac (Band), stevie nicks - Fandom
Genre: Gen, grab some tissues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mastiffgirl/pseuds/mastiffgirl
Summary: Stevie gets lost inside a magical world when her niece gives birth to a baby boy.
Relationships: Stevie Nicks/her babies, stevie nicks/her nephew





	Sprites of Stevie

He was gorgeous. His little nose curled up at the end, just as his great-aunt's did—a little pixie nose. And they were fae, were they not? Roman and she? A babe is half magic and half human, after all. Being too well-versed in lore and witchery, Stevie knew a magical creature when she saw one. And the newborn child of her niece was definitely magical. 

Cradling the tiny bundle closely to her, Stevie looked into the soul of her blood kin. She had done the same when Jessica was born. She was the first grand-baby and Stevie was all-too-happy to dote on her every need. And she hung a photo of Jessica in her room while detoxing from Klonopin: it gave her something to hold onto. It gave her hope. If she could get through the day, she would be even closer to holding that little girl in her arms once again. After six weeks, and a million tears, she finally did. And when the tiny child with perfectly blonde hair was scooped up by her aunt, Stevie swore she could hear Jessica speaking directly to her. Through unintelligible toddler babble, they communicated. It was not English. It was not silence. It was a language of its own, a language they both understood. A magical language. And with the child of her niece in her arms, Stevie was brought back to the moment she held Jessica in the same way, Chris lying with Lori on a bed nearby. 

Aside from Robin and Lindsey, Lori and Chris knew more than anyone else that Stevie's primal desire to raise a child of her own ran deep, and it ran deeper than she let on. Her candor with and love for children was apparent in her eyes, and her skin seemed to glow whenever she was around them. It was a pregnancy glow; a glow of eternal love and protection. If carrying the child herself with her belly rotund and her feet aching from extra weight wasn't a possibility, then Stevie wanted the rest of it. She wanted the booties and diapers, the bibs and cradles, the pacifiers and bottles, and her fluency of their special language. That secret communication was, perhaps, more of a draw for her than anything else. 

Multi-colored outlines of tiny feet decorated Roman's receiving blanket. His tiny body fit perfectly inside Stevie's embrace. She sat cross-legged with her elbow propped on the back of her chair. Gazing at her great-nephew, she got lost inside their little world. 

Not forgotten were Stevie's four babies. They danced with her and Roman to the tune of a lyre in a nursery of gardenias and butterflies. Sara and her siblings welcomed Roman to their circle of glee. Ever their mother's children, Stevie's babies laughed and sang in the sunlight. While she danced, Stevie looked on through tears at the little ones who'd slipped through her fingers and at the little one who had just emerged earthside. So close to the veil, were they all. Between here and there is another place where spirit meets soul. That's where Stevie saw her babies. That's where they danced, waiting for her to join them. And she did join them when she could. For thirty years or more, she'd joined them unabashedly. They kept her young. But when she had to part and go back to the 'real world', there was no greater sorrow she felt. There was no greater guilt or blame. There were only four sets of resplendent eyes watching her leave and four tiny, perfect hands waving 'goodbye' before they turned to each other and linked arms again, treading a circle in the grass. Watching Roman interact with his cousins just as his mother had done when she was first born gave Stevie indescribable joy. Jessica had grown up and forgotten their secret language. She'd forgotten their magical meeting place. She'd forgotten her cousins' faces and names, how they looked and what they sounded like. And the last time she danced, she thought she would return, only telling them, "I'll be back! I promise! My mom is calling me for dinner. I love you!" They continued to dance after she left, waiting to welcome her again. When Stevie joined them next, she had to tell them about Jessica. "She's forgotten about this place, my babies. She won't be back. I'm so sorry." Four forlorn faces stared at their mother in disbelief. As the eldest, Sara offered a hug to her mother first. Stevie took her daughter's offering, barely able to hold back her motherly protective instinct enough to be openly emotional with the young ones in front of her.

"We still love her, Mommy." Sara's honeysuckle-sweet voice soothed her mother's heartache.

Bent slightly to fully embrace her child, Stevie let herself cry into her daughter's shoulder, her hands caressing Sara's long brunette waves. Sara remained strong to her mother's front, bearing her weight as Stevie rocked on unsteady legs. Internally, she was battling her protective instinct against her need to just break down. Almost as if on cue, Sara's siblings crowded around their mother, each with a hand patting her lightly in comfort. And with that motion, Stevie caved. 

Sara felt her mother's hands slide from around her back as Stevie collapsed onto the grass. Once meagerly standing taller than they, her children stood above her as pillars. Stevie couldn't bring herself to look up for fear of scaring her young ones and instead hid behind her mass of blonde tresses, but her children were not to be underestimated. One petite finger tucked under her chin and pulled slightly. Stevie opened her eyes to see her youngest smiling back at her: the child with the perfect set of teal-green eyes, porcelain skin, messy blonde hair and a crooked tooth waiting to fall. Stevie felt the heat of a stronger round of tears burning her eyes and shook from holding back impending heaves. She pleaded with God and every other holy being _not_ to fall apart in front of her children. _No, I can't. I can't do this...not to them._

Her youngest spoke with such a calm and steady voice she almost didn't believe it was her child.

"Mommy, just cry. We want you to. You can't be the mommy we need if you don't cry."

And, so, she did. She pulled her knees to her forehead and let muffled sobs filter through the garden. She tried to hug her legs but was intervened by tiny hands nestled in her own. Two at her back and two at her sides, Stevie's babies cradled her as she wept. She squeezed their hands and rubbed their knuckles. She felt their touch on her back, one drawing an '8' shape and the other a simple circle. They did not shush her or speak. They just held space for her. And for the time being, that was all she needed. She wasn't surprised at her children's strength of character; they _were_ her children. And she wasn't bewildered that her children would ask such a thing from her. Jessica had grown up and forgotten, and that was just another loss to add to the pile. It was another reason to not dance with her children because having to say goodbye grew harder and harder each time, and she didn't know how many more times she could do that before she had to stop altogether. And that was the very last thing on earth she wanted to do. She missed the chance to say a final goodbye to them when they left, so having to say it each time she left was a cruel irony. It was another layer of guilt and blame. 'I made you leave, and now I'm leaving you.' But they welcomed her back with giant gap-toothed smiles and open arms every single time. And for that, she was more than grateful. 

Her tears faded slowly, and she kissed the back of her babies' hands and reached over her shoulder to squeeze her other two babies' soft palms. Her second conceived sat down directly in front of her. She looked at their cocoa almond eyes and brown hair, an exact copy of herself. They held out their arms and raised an eyebrow. Stevie looked at her third child, a stunningly beautiful being comprised of ethereal and cherubic features, who also wore an eager grin and mischievous glint. Sara's baby blues echoed her siblings' looks. Her youngest was the first to jump up and start running in a circle. Stevie wiped the streaks from her face as she joined her babies in their decades-long dance. 

After that day, it took a few years for Stevie to get up the courage to face them again. Though she knew they would welcome her, she couldn't help but feel like she was taking advantage of their undying love. In the many years that passed before Roman was born, she visited only twice more. 

But here he was, dancing next to her as carefree as a wood nymph. 

Fae, they were, indeed.


End file.
